FINN

"Is that Winter Donovan over there?" Adam yelled in my ear. The strip club was loud enough to be a dance club. The idea must have been to blind the customer with lights and deafen with music.

Slim build, long curtain of black hair, button nose, defiant look? Yeah, that was Winter Donovan all right, and while I wouldn't have been surprised to see her sister here—I'd actually heard a vague rumor she was stripping—seeing Winter was a shock. This wasn't her scene, never mind that she had given up her paintbrushes for the tattoo gun. Winter was as straight an arrow as they came. She didn't drink, smoke, or do drugs. As far as I knew, she had only one tattoo. And I'd know better than most, better than almost anyone. I still saw her sweet sex when I crashed into my bed at night. I fantasized about tonguing it and her coming all over my face. It was high-end spank bank material, but I was tired of one-handing it. Seeing Winter here in her short shorts and tight top was like a punch in the nuts. Painful. Unforgettable.

Behind me I felt a slight push. Fucking Henry. "Are we going to stand here all night, or are we going to see some pussy?"

The urge to retort with a sarcastic remark flooded my mouth. Any other guy in my crew who'd acted so obviously insolent, I'd have fired immediately. But Henry had me over a barrel. He was the foreman of the crew working to bring my dad's dream project to fruition, and I had to make nice with him. This strip club idea was his. We'd started out at the High Life, drinking beers and shooting the shit, but as one hour slipped into another, no one wanted to go home. They'd been granted a night out to get to know their dead boss's son, and they wanted to take full advantage.

Henry was busting my balls because he didn't think a pissant like me should be running a multi-million dollar project. Privately I agreed with him, but this was my dad's legacy, and I'd be damned if I didn't finish it, on time and on budget.

Henry had probably started out the night with every intention of ending up here. No doubt he and my old man had come here more than once. My dad was friendly, overly so, with women.

"I'm looking for a place to sit," I answered coolly.

At midnight, Riskie's was crowded enough that we couldn't sit beside the stage, but mirrors were everywhere so the action couldn't miss even if one wanted to. What was going down on the stage held little interest for me. Instead, I watched the bar like an alcoholic who hadn't had a drink in five days, which was a pretty apt description. I hadn't seen or talked to Winter in two months. Not since the night she ran out on me.

I'd been in my first strip club when I was fifteen. Dad and Uncle Patrick had taken me to a place in Chicago where twenty-dollar bills were shoved down the G-string of a woman, not one-dollar bills. The women there were finer than anything I'd seen in high school. At that point, I didn't realize how much a woman's body could be cosmetically enhanced—from breast implants to butt implants, those ladies were surgically sculpted “perfection.”

Dad told me he wanted me to learn to be a man, which included knowing how to please a woman in bed. If I could get a whore off, I could get anyone off. I loved my dad and missed him so much, it felt like I was missing a limb, but I would be the first to admit he was fucked up when it came to women.

Because I loved him but didn't want to be him, I'd avoided the family construction business when I got out of college, opting to flip houses instead. And I'd tried hard to treat every woman in my life with respect. But the one woman who mattered, I'd fucked up with. She hadn't taken my calls, answered my texts, or responded to my emails—the ones I’d sent after I realized I’d screwed up. I knew what she was thinking—that we’d made a mistake, and I had let her think that while I sorted out my own head.

The only real mistake was letting her run for so long.

A hard elbow in my side had me looking over sharply with a "fuck you" on the tip of my tongue, but it was just Adam. He gave me a slight nod of warning and a look that said "pay attention." He was right. I was winning the crew over even if Henry had reservations.

"You bored, son?" Henry mocked, but his tone was half-envious, as if he wondered how I was immune to all this jiggling flesh.

"Just making sure we don't die of thirst," I answered. "Why don't you pick out a place for us, and I'll get the drinks." The three other guys who worked under Henry nodded in enthusiasm, but Henry narrowed his eyes as if I had some trick up my sleeve.

I did, but it had nothing to do with Henry and our stupid little power plays. At the bar, most of the guys had their stools turned because even though the place was ringed with mirrors, they were here to see the live show. The bartender gave me a nod of acknowledgment and held up one finger. After a minute, he hustled down. Wiping the bar top with a rag too wet to absorb any liquid, he gestured for my order.

"Two pitchers."

"Eighteen dollars."

I laid a twenty on the bar top, but when the bartender tugged at the bill, I didn't let go. "Which section is Winter Donovan's?"

He squinted and then looked past me into the club. When he didn't spot her—because she wasn't on the floor—he shrugged. "Left side of the stage, near the front."

The front left side of the stage was nearly shrouded in darkness, but I saw a table big enough for six that would make Henry happy and would put me in prime viewing of all the other tables in Winter's section. "Thanks." I laid another five on the bar top and shoved the bills toward him.

Across the room, I managed to catch Adam's eye. We'd been friends since kindergarten, so it wasn't hard for Adam to read my intentions. He placed a hand on Henry's arm, stalling him while I went to claim the table—the one that was occupied.

No one from the table noticed me when I approached. They were too busy staring slack-jawed at the stage, where a pretty Asian girl worked the pole like gravity didn't exist. "A hundred bucks for your table." I slapped down the bill in the middle of them, and the five guys stared at it and then me for the three long seconds it took to make up their minds.

One meaty hand dove across the table and snatched it up. "All yours."

I dropped the pitchers, sat in my chair, and waited.

A tall, busty blonde in a sheer black baby doll nightie and shorts so tiny they might as well have been underwear showed up after Adam, Henry, and the others took their seats. She arranged glasses in front of us and poured the beer.

"Where's Winter?" I asked. I felt like a broken record.

The blonde gave me a long perusal, and I gave her my smile, the one my last girlfriend said made her panties wet and her heart beat faster. I didn't know if it had the same results on the waitress, but it worked enough to get her to soften her intense gaze. She tipped her head toward the other side of the room. Through the flashing lights and fog creeping over the stage, I saw the fall of Winter's black hair that fell like a silk curtain. It tumbled forward as she leaned over and passed drinks to tables.

"Thought this was her section."

She gave me a sympathetic shrug. "Things change. Sometimes we trade. I promise I can deliver a beer and a burger as well as Winter."

"I don't doubt that." Carrying on a conversation in the middle of any club was impossible, so I gave up. The blonde took our order and hustled off. I stared across the room, tracking Winter's every movement. The club was designed so every eye would be focused on the stage. All the lights were directed there, leaving the rest of the place shrouded in darkness. But I knew her, even in the dark, so it wasn't hard for me to make out her shape, to watch her move from table to table, to get turned on whenever she bent over.

God, what a fucking tool I was. There was really no way to get a good look at her, but I was aroused by the idea of her. No. It wasn't the idea. It was the memory. It was the feel of her slim body slick and ready for me, and the taste of her as she ate at my mouth like it was her last meal—or her first. It was all those good things that washed over me in a welcome flood.

Hoots roused me from my reverie, and when I tore my gaze from the shadow of Winter, I saw the cause. The stripper had moved down the T-shaped stage to stop close to us. She dropped down and spread her knees wide. Her hands slid down toward the apex of her thighs, driving everyone at the table wild. Henry jumped up, placed two fingers between his lips, and let out an ear-piercing whistle. Me? I was irritated she was blocking my view of Winter.

Winter was avoiding me, but here in this titty bar, I had an advantage she didn't. I was a paying customer, and she was… God, who knew what she was doing here.

"Don't do anything I would do," Adam murmured knowingly as I pushed away from the table.

"Where would the fun be in that?" I gave him a wry half grin and moved toward my target. A man in black slacks and a dress shirt stood near a short hallway to the side of the bar. Winter had disappeared down that hallway when I first arrived. Since then I'd seen a variety of men and workers slip away after talking to the guy at the entrance. Most strip clubs had rooms where a patron could buy a private dance—or more, depending on the club.

"What's up?" the man asked as I approached.

"Just taking a breather."

"Our dancers not doing it for you tonight?"

"It's noisy and crowded. I think it's more the atmosphere. Maybe you have someplace quieter where I could sit and still enjoy myself?" I pulled out a twenty.

He swiped it out of my hand so fast I almost forgot I’d held anything.

"I've got a seat in the back." He jerked his head down the hall. "You could have some one on one."

"That'd be nice."

"You have someone in mind or just a general preference?"

"How about that one, right there?" Winter had come up to the bar, resting her tray on it. The bartender leaned close to take the order. I pointed to Winter.

"Sorry. She's waitstaff. They don't do private performances. How about Ruby? I mean, all those Asian girls look the same, and Ruby's got more upstairs." He gestured toward his chest.

I wondered if he'd ever said those words in front of Winter. She'd probably deck him.

"No, I like the more natural look. She's it for me. I've had a bad few months, and she's the one who’s going to make it better." I pulled out a hundred dollars. "How about it?"

He looked at the money and then at Winter for a long time. Finally he shrugged. "I’ll ask her, and if she agrees, fifteen minutes."

"Fine."

"Go on back. Second door on the left."

The second door on the left revealed a small room, no bigger than a closet, lit with red lights. It had one armless cushioned chair toward the back and a side table. I hadn't yet settled in when the door slammed open. I jumped to the side to avoid getting hit by the flying wood, and I hid a smile so I didn't get struck by the angry girl at the door.

She was vibrating with emotion. Nearly levitating from it. If she slapped me, I'd welcome it because it would be a response. Finally.

"I can't believe you did that."

"Pay for you? Come to the strip club? Wonder why you’re here? What's so unbelievable about any of those things?" She stood there, the door open, with curious people wandering by. I took her by the arm and gently moved her inside and shut the door. When the door closed, a red bulb above the frame came on and music, stripper music, poured into the room.

This was Winter's cue to strip, but as much as I wanted to see her naked again, I wanted her to talk more.

"Let me out," she demanded, trying to dart around me to grab the knob.

Ignoring her request, I leaned against door. "What are you doing here?” As if I had to ask. I knew it had to do with Ivy before she even opened her mouth.

She pressed her lips together and then with a mulish expression, spat out, “Ivy’s sick. I’m covering her shift.”

I couldn’t prevent my snort of disbelief, but the last thing I wanted was to talk about her sister. “You’ve been ignoring me."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"The hell there's not." I said those words as mildly as possible, but I couldn't hide all my anger and frustration. She looked away. In the red glow, she looked demonic in an impossibly hot way. Her slender legs were encased in black crisscrossing tights, and she wore the same tiny shorts as the blonde who served us. The thing around her torso made her small waist even tinier and pushed her little tits into plump pillows that begged to be bitten and licked.

"You said all you needed to that night."

"I didn't say enough, clearly, because you've been avoiding me." I dug my fingers into my biceps because I was itching to drag her against me and remind her why she shouldn't be ducking me. "That night was damn good for both of us, and don't try to lie and say it wasn't. I felt you coming all over me. Repeatedly."

Even in the red light, I saw her flush, and she looked away, biting her lower lip slicked with dark red lipstick.

"It should never have happened."

"Because why?" I’d wracked my brains after the first few ignored phone calls and came up with a big zero.

Winter stared at the wall. “Because of my sister.”

“That’s a weak excuse. She doesn't have anything to do with us."

She sighed and ran a hand over the side of her head, a gesture that signaled she was nervous and uncertain. "There is no us, Finn. There never will be. I want you to leave me alone."

I closed the space between us. Winter was short, and even in her fuck-me heels, she only came up to my Adam's apple. I tilted her chin up. "That's not happening. That night, Winter…shit, you gave me a gift, and I want to talk about it."

"There's nothing to talk about." She jerked her head out of my grip and ran toward the door.

Was I being an asshole? Forcing her to answer questions that hounded me for months? No, I didn't think so. I slammed my hand against the door, keeping her in. Her body was slight and trembling under mine, and it didn't escape my notice that we'd been in this position before—only with a lot fewer clothes. I rotated my hips slowly to remind her of all the talking we’d done with our bodies. Her breath quickened, and the pulse on her exposed neck jumped in response.

She was scared of something, not of me, but of something. Maybe how I made her feel. That was some scary shit if you weren’t ready for it. Hadn’t I tried to ignore it too? But it didn’t work. We’d set a match to a spark, and it was still burning all these weeks later.

Dipping low, I brushed my lips against the top of her ear. "You've been part of my life since I was sixteen, Winter. I'm not letting you go. You can't use Ivy as your defense forever."

The name of her sister made her stiffen. "She's not a defense. She's my sister and your girlfriend."

"Ex-girlfriend," I corrected. "And that was a long time ago."

"Really? Because it feels like yesterday."

"You need to let that go."

The light flashed above us, and the music turned off, signaling the end of my fifteen minutes. Winter sagged against the door in relief. "Time's up."

"This isn't that big of a town, Winter. You can't hide from me."